Chapter 5

Elle

The streetlights cast long shadows over the sidewalk as I walked, my heels clicking against the pavement. I was cold, frustrated, and completely exhausted. My car had broken down a few blocks back, the engine refusing to start no matter how many times I turned the key. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my phone had died earlier, leaving me stranded and cut off.

Jasmine and I had gotten separated when the police showed up at the party. One minute we were laughing and running together, and the next, the crowd had swallowed her up. I’d tried to find her, but it was impossible with people pushing and shoving in every direction. I’d shouted her name, but there was no answer.

Now I was alone, my arms wrapped around myself to keep warm as I tried to figure out what to do.

Then I heard it.

An engine.

I stiffened, my heart speeding up as the low hum grew louder. Turning my head, I saw headlights sweeping over the road. A truck slowed as it approached, and for a moment, I thought about running. But what good would that do? It wasn’t like I could outrun a vehicle.

The truck came to a stop next to me, and the driver rolled down the window.

“Hey,” he called out.

I hesitated, squinting at him through the dim light. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him at first. Blonde, messy hair. Strong features. His face jogged a memory, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“You okay?” he asked, his tone cautious but concerned.

“My car broke down,” I said finally. “And my phone’s dead.”

He nodded, leaning slightly out of the window. “Do you need a ride? I can take you home.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. My instincts told me not to trust strangers, but there was something about him that didn’t scream danger. That’s when it hit me—I had seen him before. At the party.

“You were there,” I said, my voice sharp.

He raised an eyebrow. “At the party?”

I nodded, my eyes narrowing. “Yeah. You were with… Dylan, I think.”

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and he nodded. “Yeah, I was. Look, I know this probably seems weird, but I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t even know your name,” I said, crossing my arms.

“It’s Luke,” he said. “Luke O’Connor. And you’re Elle Sinclair.”

That caught me off guard. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “Everyone in this town knows who you are. Your family’s kind of a big deal.”

I stared at him, trying to decide if he was trustworthy. He didn’t look dangerous, and he didn’t seem like he was lying. Still, I couldn’t shake my nerves.

“Look,” he said, sensing my hesitation. “You can either keep walking in the dark by yourself, or you can get in, and I’ll take you home. Your call.”

I bit my lip, debating my options. As much as I hated the idea of accepting help from a stranger—especially one who seemed to know more about me than I was comfortable with—I didn’t see another choice.

“Fine,” I said finally. “But if you try anything, I’ll scream.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. Door’s unlocked.”

I climbed into the truck, sitting as far from him as the seat would allow. My hand hovered over the door handle, just in case I needed to make a quick escape.

“Where am I taking you?” he asked, starting the engine.

I rattled off my address, my voice clipped.

The silence between us was heavy as he drove, the low hum of the truck’s engine the only sound. I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, still trying to figure him out.

“So,” I said after a while. “You’ve seen me around?”

He glanced at me briefly before focusing back on the road. “Yeah. Your family’s kind of hard to miss. Big house, fancy events, charity stuff.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath.

He chuckled softly. “Must be weird, having people know who you are before you’ve even met them.”

“You have no idea,” I said, the exhaustion in my voice surprising even me.

Luke didn’t say anything after that, and for a while, the silence returned. I stared out the window, watching the familiar streets of Savannah blur past.

“I don’t get why you stopped,” I said finally, breaking the quiet.

He shrugged, his hands steady on the wheel. “Seemed like the right thing to do. You looked like you needed help.”

I turned to look at him, searching his face for any signs of ulterior motives. He seemed genuine, but I still couldn’t let my guard down completely.

“Well… thanks, I guess,” I said grudgingly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, offering me a small, lopsided smile.

We pulled up to my house a few minutes later, and I reached for the door handle as soon as the truck came to a stop.

“Take care, Elle,” he said as I climbed out.

I paused for a second, glancing back at him. There was something in his tone—something sincere. But I didn’t say anything. Instead, I shut the door and hurried up the driveway, the sound of his truck fading into the night.

Luke

The night was quieter than I expected after the chaos of the party. My truck hummed steadily as I made my way home, the dark Savannah streets stretching endlessly ahead. I’d had enough of Dylan’s scene for one night—enough beer, enough shouting, and enough of his constant need to show off.

I’d barely made it two miles when I saw her.

A lone figure walking down the sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her heels clicking against the pavement. Even from a distance, I could tell she didn’t belong there. Her posture, the way she carried herself—it all screamed trouble or maybe vulnerability.

As I got closer, I realized who it was.

Elle Sinclair.

The girl with the polished look who’d been standing by herself at the party earlier. She hadn’t been drinking or laughing like the others, just observing the chaos around her like she was completely out of place. I’d noticed her then—how could I not? She stood out in a way most people didn’t.

I slowed the truck and rolled down the window. “Hey,” I called out.

She froze, turning to face me with wide, wary eyes. Even now, she had that same guarded look, like she wasn’t sure if she should run or stand her ground.

“You okay?” I asked.

She hesitated before answering. “My car broke down. And my phone’s dead.”

Her voice was steady, but there was a tension in it that told me she didn’t trust me. I couldn’t blame her for that.

“Need a ride? I can take you home,” I offered.

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes scanned me, probably weighing her options. I could tell she was the kind of person who thought things through, who didn’t take risks unless she had to.

Then her expression shifted, and I saw recognition flash across her face.

“You were at the party,” she said, her tone sharp.

I nodded. “Yeah. I saw you there.”

She crossed her arms. “You were with Dylan.”

The way she said his name, like it left a bad taste in her mouth, made me smirk a little. I couldn’t blame her for that, either.

“I was,” I admitted. “Look, I get it—this seems weird. But I’m just trying to help.”

She stared at me, still trying to figure me out. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Luke O’Connor,” I said, leaning slightly out the window. “And you’re Elle Sinclair.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

I shrugged. “Everyone knows who you are. Your family’s kind of a big deal around here.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see her frustration building.

“Look,” I said, keeping my tone light, “you can keep walking, or you can let me give you a ride. Your call.”

She bit her lip, her hesitation written all over her face. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. But if you try anything, I’ll scream.”

I raised my hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I unlocked the passenger door, and she climbed in, sitting as far from me as the seat would allow. Her posture was stiff, her eyes darting between me and the road ahead.

“Where am I taking you?” I asked, starting the truck.

She rattled off her address, her tone clipped.

As we drove, the silence between us felt heavier than it should have. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to push her. She clearly wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

After a few minutes, though, she broke the silence.

“So, you’ve seen me around?” she asked, her tone skeptical.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at her briefly. “Your family’s kind of hard to miss. Big house, fancy events, charity stuff.”

“Great,” she muttered under her breath.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Must be weird, having people know who you are before you’ve even met them.”

“You have no idea,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.

I glanced at her again, taking in the way she was staring out the window, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her purse. There was something about her—something more than just the polished image everyone else seemed to see.

“You don’t seem like the kind of person who goes to parties like that,” I said before I could stop myself.

She turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing. “And what kind of person do I seem like?”

I shrugged. “Someone who doesn’t waste their time on Dylan’s crap.”

Her lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smile but stopped herself. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

The conversation stalled again, and I focused on the road, the dim streetlights flickering past us.

“I still don’t get why you stopped,” she said after a while.

“Seemed like the right thing to do,” I replied. “You looked like you needed help.”

She turned her head to study me, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “That’s it? Just being a good Samaritan?”

“Pretty much,” I said, keeping my tone light.

She didn’t respond, but I could feel her watching me, trying to figure me out.

“You know,” I said after a moment, “you don’t have to be so suspicious. Not everyone’s out to get you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’d be suspicious too if you were in my shoes.”

“Fair point,” I admitted.

We fell into silence again, but it felt less tense this time. Maybe it was the fact that we were almost at her house, or maybe she was starting to realize I wasn’t a threat. Either way, the air between us didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

When we pulled up to her house, she reached for the door handle without hesitation.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Take care, Elle.”

She paused for a second, glancing back at me like she wanted to say something else. But she didn’t. Instead, she shut the door and hurried up the driveway, disappearing into the house.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the closed door. I hadn’t expected to see her again after the party, let alone end up giving her a ride home. But now that I had, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our paths would cross again.

And for some reason, I hoped they would.